


Like Any Brother Would

by inlovewithnight



Series: Soulbonded Ways [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen, soulbond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight





	Like Any Brother Would

There's this story their mom always tells. Family gatherings, church stuff, school stuff, whatever.

"Mikey didn't want to talk when he was little," she'd start. "We figured he was just a late bloomer, taking his time--" Everyone would laugh politely and Mikey would roll his eyes. "--but it went _on_ and _on_ and we started to get a little concerned, you know?

"And the thing was--it was funny. It was like Gerard did his talking for him, always knew why he was upset or what he wanted or whatever, he'd just talk talk talk and Mikey would sit there and nod. And I'd tell Gerard, I'd tell him--why don't you let _Mikey_ tell me what he wants? And he'd look at me all exasperated and say that what Mikey _wanted_ was for _Gerard_ to tell me."

Everyone would laugh again.

"So this went on and finally I started to get a little concerned. I mean, the kid just wasn't _talking_. So I made an appointment with the doctor to have him checked out, make sure everything was okay. And I tell you what, weirdest damn thing, the day after I made the appointment, he starts talking. I don't mean a word or two, it was full sentences, never missed a beat.

"And after a day or two of this, I asked him, just as a joke, what changed his mind and made him decide to start talking to us? And he looks at me, you know that look he gets--yes, that one he's doing right now--and said, 'Gee asked me to.'"

Everyone laughed at that, too.

Gerard and Mikey never did.  
**  
Mikey is fifteen and he's already been to better parties than this one, but as ways to spend a Saturday night go, it's okay. The beer's cheap and awful but there's a lot of it, and he's had enough of it by now that he's warm and loose and happy, leaning back against the couch in Steve Whitman's basement while they all play Truth or Dare. Actually, at this point it's more like Truth or Drink, since nobody's bothering to make up challlenges besides pointing vaguely and ordering each other to chug.

Mikey's not really paying attention. His mind is wandering, because this is boring, and once he's finished reading the titles of all of the books on the shelves, and counting the ceiling tiles, and guessing which cabinet Steve uses to hide the porn from his parents, he falls back on his standard back-up plan for idle moments and thinks about Gee.

He pushes slightly at the sense in the back of his head, the one that means _Gerard_ and has always been there, from as soon as there was such a thing as Michael James Way, or maybe even before. He gets back a sense of distracted contentment, the kind that he translates as Gee drawing or writing or just telling himself stories, different from the contentment that means he's watching a movie or listening to music or jerking off or drunk. Mikey can tell them all apart like tastes, or colors; they're a million different surfaces over the warm _there_ that's Gee in his head.

He thinks affection at his brother and gets the same back, making him smile behind his beer can as he turns his attention back to the game.

He's another can down before anybody realizes that he hasn't taken a turn for a while. He grins at their cries of outrage and shrugs, because what, it's not like it's his fault they decide not to notice him. Fading into invisibility is his superpower.

Gerard nudges him in his head at that, a rush of muddled-together feelings and impressions that Mikey sorts out as easily as his own thoughts. He's been doing both his whole life, after all.

 _not invisible/see you all the time/you're important_

Mikey bites his lip and thinks back in fond exasperation. _being too literal_

Gerard sends the equivalent of rumpling Mikey's hair, and Mikey rolls his eyes before he realizes that he totally missed Rachel Miller asking him a question.

"What?"

She giggles and leans forward, looking up at him through her lashes. "I said how did you learn to kiss, Mikey Way?"

He blinks at her, rubbing his fingertips through the condensation on the beer can. He could answer that question honestly-- _from my brother_ \--and end up in the counselor's office on Monday. He could answer honestly but with more elaboration-- _from being inside my brother's head while he kissed Carrie Leatherman in the back of the bus after their class trip; he popped a boner and I almost threw up_ \--and, well, still end up at the counselor's. Honesty is not his friend, here.

Then again, it hasn't been since he was three and Gerard came home from first grade to tell him that other kids didn't have their brothers in their heads all the time.

 _you make my life more complicated_ he thinks at Gee with wry amusement.

Gee sends back puzzlement mixed with love, and Mikey smiles again as he shrugs at Rachel and drinks.  
**  
Art school lets Gerard be more nocturnal than ever before, but sometimes things do catch up with him. Tonight is a sometimes: it's 10:30 on a Saturday night and he can't handle the thought of getting out of bed. That's been true since he got home from class at four. Not even food can make him get up; he has Pop-Tarts and Mountain Dew, and if he manages to drag himself to the bookshelf at the foot of the bed he has vodka. At the moment he doesn't even think he needs it.

He's lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling, but he's also back in New Jersey, feeling the blood race through Mikey's veins as the band takes the stage. He doesn't know the name of the band, and he can't actually see through Mikey's eyes, but the specifics are so very far from being the point. The point is the throb of heat and joy under Mikey's skin and the crowd coming alive.

Gerard closes his eyes and reaches out from the inside of his head, and Mikey doesn't even hesitate, just lets him the rest of the way in. Gerard spent what seems like half of his childhood not knowing where he ended and Mikey began; this double awareness pretty much feels like home. Booze and dance-floor electricity in his veins layered over exhaustion; tight jeans and heavy boots and the sharp impact of bodies layered under rough unwashed sheets; the dizzy elation of the club layered over and under and eating away at the heavy drag of apathy.

God, Mikey loves shows. Gerard gets dizzy sometimes from how much Mikey lights up at flashing lights and a couple of guitars.

 _more than that_ Mikey thinks, and Gerard shudders as Mikey hip-checks a guy and the impact rolls through them both.

 _explain it to me_

 _no words/just is/feel it_ The guy hits Mikey back and white-hot joy goes up like fireworks. Gerard gives up on thinking and obeys, just feels, just lets the show cut through him as Mikey fights across the floor.

Gerard is there through the show, and lingers after until Mikey slips off into the parking lot with a blonde girl who barely comes up to his shoulder. _can stay if you want_ Mikey sends, an invitation doused in sweat and lust and beer and hang-gliding off the top edge of an adrenaline high.

 _no thanks/perv_ Gerard thinks, and Mikey's amusement washes through him gold and blue. _be safe/love you_

 _love love love_ , in return, and Gerard pulls away slowly, back into himself, blinking at his dingy ceiling again through a haze of sweat, and smiling.  
**  
The offer to stick around is a standing one, as far as Mikey's concerned, and Gerard doesn't always say no. Sometimes he gets kind of angry at himself about it--Mikey can tell, obviously; it would be difficult to miss even if it wasn't in his head--but it doesn't bother Mikey. Really, objectively, it's not any weirder than anything else in their lives.

Mikey goes home with girls and boys, he kisses in hallways and gives head in bathrooms and fucks in back seats, he tastes and touches and trembles and gets off in dozens of sketchy apartments scattered across the tri-state area as he chases the scene and the scene makes it worth his while.

And it makes it different--makes it deeper--makes it _more_ when he's not alone in his skin, when he's not just getting off, he's getting off _twice_ , in his own body and Gerard's at the same time, emotions and sensations all mixed up and amplifying each other and echoing back and forth like two of the most inspired soloists ever trading riffs, and it's all _in his pants_.

 _you're so fucking juvenile_ Gee thinks at him, and Mikey hides a smile against the pillow.

 _i've had more threesomes than anyone else alive/at least by percentage_

He can feel Gerard laugh despite himself before he answers. _juvenile and a dork_

 _news?_

 _no_ Gerard's affection makes Mikey want to close his eyes, duck his head, bask in it like a cat.

And then Gee has to go all philosophical on him, of course. _kind of wrong to have a threesome when the third person doesnt know I'm there_

 _no/you're part of me_ Mikey thinks, warm and content like he might start shitting sunbeams, and he can tell Gee feels the same, though the worry doesn't entirely go away.

 _come home soon?_ Gee asks, and Mikey replies with affirmation, even as he reaches out to find the skin of his partner-in-bed. Soon is a relative term, and he can go again, no reason not to.

 _no reason for you/I've got other stuff_ Gerard thinks. _slut_

 _bite me_ Mikey hides another laugh against the pillow as Gerard exits in a huff, bright green tinged with indignation.  
**  
It's Gerard's idea to tell the band. Mikey doesn't see the point or the need, but Gerard thinks it's important, in a way he can't put into words but doesn't need to. _have to tell them_ he thinks at Mikey, swirled in urgency, and Mikey's eyes get wide as he agrees. Gerard doesn't very often fall back on urgency and insistence and 'because I really want it.' When he does, it tends to make Mikey sit up.

The guys take it pretty well, considering. Apparently the've been indoctrinated to weird shit more thoroughly than Gerard thought.

"So, wait," Ray says, staring at them. "How long?"

"Always," Mikey says promptly, and Gerard frowns at him, both inside his head and with his face.

"Since Mikey was born," he corrects, and Mikey rolls his eyes.

"That's always."

"I did have a couple of years before you were around, you know," Gerard points out acidly.

Mikey smirks, just fucking smug as hell. "Doesn't count."

Gerard grits his teeth, because it is an _unfair_ card to play and Mikey _always_ plays it, his awareness that Gerard doesn't remember before his brother was born and wouldn't want to if he could. Obnoxious little shit.

Mikey just laughs at him, out loud, and the other guys look confused.

"Fine," Gerard says. "Always, or close enough."

"You know _everything_ the other one thinks and feels?" Frank asks, squinting at them dubiously. "You can't filter anything out?"

"Oh, yeah," Mikey says, shrugging. "We just kind of--it's the same thing if I want to keep my own stuff in or keep his stuff out, I just think about something between us."

"A curtain," Gerard adds.

"Or a brick wall," Mikey says, looking satisfied.

Ray, Frank, and Otter all nod, then stop as Gerard turns to stare at his brother. "You think of a _wall_?"

Mikey fills Gerard's head with question marks as he says dubiously, "Yes..."

"A fucking wall? You _wall_ me out?" His outrage is out of proportion, but he can't help it, it's fucking insulting. He thinks about _curtains_ , and not, like, blackout curtains, either, more like their grandmother's kitchen curtains with lace. Mikey's building _walls_.

"It's a metaphor," Mikey says, and Gerard glares at him some more, until he gets the mental image of a low stone wall with a giant gate and a lock that doesn't hold.

 _you're still a little shit_ he thinks, and Mikey laughs at him blue and gold, all shot through with love.  
**  
They're down to their last pack of cigarettes and they're both too drunk to go get more until tomorrow. For now they lie on their back sat the far end of the parking lot, passing cigarettes back and forth carefully, like sharing each one will make them last longer.

Mikey can feel the ache of a bruise blossoming from a high-intensity Frank impact mid-show, but he isn't sure if it's on his body or Gee's. He draws in a deep lungful of smoke, holding it and closing his eyes, and doesn't let it go until Gerard jabs him in the ribs.

"I can't breathe when you do that," Gerard says.

Mikey doesn't open his eyes. "Cause you're drunk."

Gerard laughs. "So're you."

"Didn't say I wasn't." Mikey's eyes are still closed, and for a minute the whole world seems to stop spinning. "You remember when we were kids, how much we sucked at hide and seek?"

"We kicked ass at hide and seek. We can always find each other."

"No." He opens his eyes, blinking away disorientation as the planet resumes motion. "I mean, yeah, but that's why we sucked, because we weren't playing the game. The point of the game was...pointless, to us."

Gee shrugs and passes the cigarette back. "Just a stupid game, Mikes."

"Yeah." They're quiet again, and Mikey runs the fingers of his free hand through the grass, feeling the uneven pattern of both of them breathing. They'll fall into perfect synch if he lets them, breath and heartbeat both, they always do.

"Just sometimes I wonder what it's like. For other people. What it would be like to not just...know about you."

Gerard frowns and stabs the end of the cigarette out in the dirt. "That would suck."

"Yeah." Mikey's fingers find the back of Gerard's hand and rub lightly over the skin, and he still doesn't have to look.  
**  
Airports are hell any time of the day, any day of the year, but an airport after a flight back from Japan is a special rung of hell, and an airport after this particular flight back from Japan is the lowest circle, without question.

Gerard leans against a trash can and watches the luggage carousel turn around and around and around. It's empty. If he keeps staring long enough, their stuff will appear. He has to believe that. He only has a handful of facts he can hold on to right now, but he's decided one of them is that their stuff is going to appear, on this luggage carousel, if he just waits.

It's too fucking loud, and too bright even behind his sunglasses, and his head hurts, all the way from between his eyes to the base of his skull. Or maybe it's worse in the back of his head, where there's been nothing but silence and careful blankness for longer than he can remember ever happening before in his life.

He turns his head slightly--that hurts, too, fuck--and sees Mikey standing off by himself a good ten feet away, staring at the carousel with the same grim, despondent certainty that Gerard's pretty sure is on his own face.

He nudges at Mikey inside is head, the equivalent of knocking hopefully on that cold white wall. _please?_

Nothing.

 _I'm sorry/please?_

The wall coming down is like being hit with a six-foot wave of anger that makes him step back and lose the support of the trash can. He shakes his head hard, mouth falling open, and stares at Mikey again.

Mikey's looking at him, jaw tight, and belatedly Gerard sees how pale his brother is, how dark the shadows under his eyes are, and suddenly he can feel the sick, tight fear underpinning the anger in Mikey's mind.

 _sorry_ he thinks again, helplessly.

 _you were going to leave_

 _no_

 _ **yes**_ Gerard flinches again at the raw scream inside his head. _you **weren't there**_

Gerard bites his lip and looks down at the floor. He can feel Mikey staring at him, waiting for him to piece together an answer.

 _now i am?_

There's no response for a moment, and he looks up, watching Mikey draw a few deep, shaky breaths.

 _what do you need?_ Mikey thinks finally.

 _don't know_ Gerard pushes his hair back off his face and shrugs, looking at the carousel again. _to get out of this fucking airport/to fall over_

Mikey almost smiles, mouth twisting a little, and picks up his backpack off the floor, moving over to stand next to Gerard. He reaches over and grabs Gerard's shoulder, physically shifting him from leaning on the trash can to leaning on Mikey. Gerard chokes on a sob as the barriers between them come down one by one and he can feel everything in Mikey, all of his strength.

 _take what you need_ Mikey thinks at him, and Gerard nods a little, jerkily, as they watch the carousel go around. _it's yours too_  
**  
Pete draws his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them, staring at Mikey with wide-eyed curiosity. "Seriously?"

Mikey shrugs, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose. "Why would I make that up?"

"Because it's awesome."

"It's weird," Mikey corrects, raising an eyebrow at him. "Both in the sense of being, you know, not at all normal, and also when you say it out loud it sounds freakish and insane."

"And awesome." Pete chews at his thumbnail. "Seriously, though, you're...you're never left completely alone? And he always knows when you need him?"

There's a distinct note of envy in his voice, mixed in with a shot of yearning, and Mikey's careful to keep his eyes averted as he nods, not wanting to put Pete on the spot or make him self-conscious. "Yeah, I guess."

"Lucky," Pete almost whispers, and Mikey shrugs, nudging Pete in the knee with his foot.

"There are also downsides."

"Like what?"

"Like right now I am stuck with a running commentary on the Buffy episodes he's watching, complete with his weird fantasies about Alyson Hannigan."

Gerard shoots icy blue indignation at him, and Mikey bites back a laugh as Pete says "But again, that's _awesome_ " with what, as far as Mikey can tell, is genuine bewilderment.

 _send Wentz over here to be **my** friend_ Gerard thinks, and Mikey gives up on hiding his laughter. "Okay, fine, yeah, no drawbacks."

"So, wait," Pete says, and Mikey looks sharply at him, because now the tone of his voice is distinct speculation, and that _never_ goes anywhere good. "So, like, if I poked you with a pen right now, or no, even better, if I started tickling you--he would feel it?"

"You absolutely should not test that theory," Mikey warns him.

"But it's for _science_ ," Pete says, and then he fucking pounces, and between his fingers and Gerard laughing gleefully in his head, Mikey doesn't stand a chance.  
**  
Gerard wakes up shivering and choking, gasping for breath and feeling like he's fighting his way up through water. Only half of the fear clenching in his chest is his, and none of the images racing through his head.

Mikey crawls into the bed and presses tight to Gerard's side, hiding his face in Gerard's shoulder and digging his fingers into Gerard's wrist. Gerard bites his lower lip, bracing himself against the pain and also the wave of _can't keep doing this/can't stand it/can't can't can't can't_ pounding into his head.

Gerard finds Mikey's hand and threads their fingers together, squeezing tight. _shh shh shh/its okay_

 _not not not not_

 _i'm here/i've got you_

Mikey's voice is hoarse and thick, choked. Gerard wasn't expecting him to speak aloud, and it makes his whole body jerk, muscles falling back into the state of tension they've been in for days now. Fuck, he _aches_.

"When you were...when things sucked," Mikey says, "it was like...like a toothache. This spot in my head that just _hurt_ , all the time."

Gerard waits for a minute, listening to their mingled, ragged breathing. "I'm sorry."

"No." Mikey shakes his head and looks down at their hands. "I didn't mean...is that what _this_ is like, for you? Now? Am I a...toothache?"

Gerard thinks, rubbing his thumb slowly over the back of Mikey's hand, feeling Mikey crawl into his head like it's a safe place to hide, like he can wrap Gerard around him like a blanket and a lifeline and a boat to carry him over rough water. Gerard has no idea if there's enough of _him_ to do any good, if the strength Mikey's drawing on is going to be enough.

"No," he says finally. "It's not a toothache. It's more like...it's like you're screaming, all the time. In my head. I can hear you screaming."

He feels Mikey pull back a little, mentally, though physically neither of them move. "So why don't you block me out?"

It isn't as if he could lie to him if he tried. "Because I need to know if the screaming might...stop."

Mikey's breath hitches a little, and Gerard squeezes his hand tighter. _take what you need_ he thinks at him, every defense down, everything open. _take it/it's yours too/just hang on_  
**  
They're standing in the wings, looking out at where the crowd is waiting, getting louder and louder as the last techs leave the stage. The fans can always tell.

Gerard hums under his breath, an anxious run up and down scales. Mikey rocks back and forth from heel to toe, waiting, waiting. Ray and Frank and Bob are all in their own states of arrested pre-show motion, tension building and building until the lights go down and it snaps.

"Let's do this," Frank says, and they go out into the dark, the screams of the crowd wrapping around them smooth and familiar and home.

The lights flare live and they hit the first chord hard. Gee grabs the mic and his voice feels like it's coming out of Mikey's throat. And this is what it's always been, really, just easier now for other people to understand. It's the same voice, the same thoughts, just like when they were kids. Only now the music does the talking. Behind it, they just know.

Gerard flicks his hair out of his face and looks across the stage, watching Mikey step and turn, eyes half-closed. Gerard can feel the frets under Mikey's fingers, the heartbeat in his chest, the pure joy rising up through him as the music rings out and the crowd screams for more.  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Like Any Brother Would](https://archiveofourown.org/works/739036) by [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery)




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